


Electronic Brawling

by TheTentacleCommander



Series: Just N/J Porn [4]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Game: Resident Evil 3 Nemesis - Fandom, Game: Resident Evil 3 Nemesis Remake (2020), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: ? - Freeform, Anal, Attempt at Humor, BDSM Scene, Biting, Bodily Fluids, Boot Worship, Breast Fucking, Breathplay, Choking, Come Shot, Dom/sub Undertones, Dreams, Edgeplay, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fear Play, Glove Kink, Groping, Hand & Finger Kink, Heavy BDSM, Inappropriate Humor, Large Cock, Leather Kink, Manhandling, Meta, Mildly Dubious Consent, Monsterfucker, Multiple Penetration, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Reader-Insert, Resident Evil - Freeform, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Self-Denial, Shame, Shameless, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strength Kink, Submissive Reader, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Teratophilia, Tongue-in-cheek, Tongues, Triple Penetration, Urethral Play, Vaginal Sex, Wet Dream, Wrestling, monster kink, power limiter suit kink, reader gets rail cannoned, snarky undertone, sorta - Freeform, teratophile, you know what I write at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTentacleCommander/pseuds/TheTentacleCommander
Summary: Playing RE3R gets spicy. You picked the game up because you liked the action-based combat, getting to shoot up zombies and run from big bad Tyrants in questionable leather.  But sometimes a game is just simple kink bait and denying that leads to, uh...interesting dreams.Also my second experiment with a reader fic. This'll be fun :)
Relationships: MonsterxReader - Relationship, Nemesis/Reader, Nemesis/You, Reader is Female - Relationship, monster/reader - Freeform - Relationship
Series: Just N/J Porn [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1391782
Comments: 18
Kudos: 131





	1. The Plot

You had waited patiently for this game. The announcement filled you with some reservation yet, the scenario of playing the follow up to RE2R intrigued you. You even saved up and rebuilt your PC in anticipation of it.  
  
Then you got it and fell in deeply for what it contained. From the aesthetic of venturing in and trying to escape a city in chaos to the thin plot (big monster sent by a big bad corporation who wants you dead chases you, hijinx ensue) to the characters, you didn’t mind spending hours trying to master it.  
  
Well, to be honest, you were most interested in the two main leads.  
  
Not the multiple men hanging around, but the woman and the tall, too tall and overly muscled beast that followed her. There was something pleasing about the visual dynamic between the two. Sure, it was nothing more than the world’s longest game of tag, but Jill was so sassy that she was your spirit animal and Nemesis was an aggressive bastard from the word ‘go’.  
  
Of course, if you were completely honest with yourself the two were your _true_ motive for the purchase. You know full well you wouldn’t have gone so far out of your way for any other RE title. You wanted PC because PC meant mods. Mods meant more not so family-friendly options for either character. Why not? Your PC, your rules.  
  
Mods were a future treat though. You wanted to see how it ran out of the box. So, you took your time the first playthrough playing on the lowest difficulty, assisted.  
  
Then the next up.  
And the next.  
Then you went back to assisted to farm for most of the achieves to get the launcher. A pleb move but you wanted to light things on fire and get ranks.  
Then you went on slowly conquering the game.  
The difficulty kept you playing  
  
_until it didn’t_.  
  
Truthfully you hoped the different runs would unlock more. Not the weapons but more lore, more pictures of the two leads. Each run you over time felt almost an irritation, a frustration you couldn’t place. You noticed this was more pronounced when you had to play Carlos or go into places away from Nemesis. Pretty much anything that didn’t involve Jill or a chase sequence bored you.  
  
Sometimes you’d play on a few choice saves all either at Nemesis-centric boss fights or certain areas.  
  
But even that didn’t satisfy. You found yourself replying the city portions, the ones where he didn’t have a weapon yet. But you found you’d usually have Jill simply dodge around him. No shooting, no attacking, you just wanted to run and never strike back. A small but athletic woman like Jill striking that behemoth of a creature down? Why?  
  
He could kill her, but not in your game. In your game, she simply would dodge away, keep out of reach.  
  
Always out of reach.  
  
You got very good at it in your multiple playthroughs. But in this case, it wasn’t to win. You didn’t want to win. You wanted to simply run.  
  
You keep the dodging combo going sometimes for minutes, sometimes for an hour or two. She would almost like a madwoman kite the monster up and down the stone stairs in between the doughnut shop and building with the large Mr. Charlie head. Sometimes, you’d let him grab you, sometimes punch you. As Jill would grunt in pain, you’d feel a shudder race down your spine.  
  
And then, you’d reload from your death and do more perfect dodges, until you decided to stop.  
  
You wanted to see him do it again. And again and again.  
  
Sometimes you’d reload your save at Kendo’s shop. You’d go through the once locked gate, walk through the home with the NE-a controlled zombie, skip the upstairs lockbox and walk slowly out the door. You’d not flinch as Nemesis jumps down, outfit frayed after tossing the ruined flame thrower past you. He moved with almost mocking intent the hard toss of his former weapon designed to startle and unnerve you. He’d start another scripted chase. But instead of running, you’d walk slow and fail the event. You’d watch with awe as he corners his prey, and in a show of strength lift Jill up by the launcher.  
  
You’d wonder what passed through his mind in doing that as he hoisted Jill up in the air. You’d wonder how wide her eyes were as the weapon’s guiding sight shifted in colors from orange to red right before the instant kill.  
  
You had then closed the game, the scenario while having seen it time and time again, your awed reaction not changing still. You felt stupid for feeling that way, for letting a game get to you.  
  
But the worst was the intro sequence. You wanted to skip it, to ignore it. It took too long anyway. Yes, we get it, she’s in her apartment, she has a nightmare yadda yadda. What kept you sitting around for it wasn’t how beautiful it looked to see Jill looking a bit haggard and unsettled, or that bit in the bathroom – she’s been through some shit before this and her dream sequence was A+.  
  
It was the Tyrant’s entrance and how breathless it made you.  
  
Rendered in the beautiful graphics your PC could render was in context a violent assault upon Jill. You would nervously joke that she was blessed with protag immunity what with having ribs of steel. She took that kick like a champ. But you’d watch that section of the intro with an invested intensity you’ve never held for a game.  
  
It is just a game, right?  
  
You’re supposed to feel for her and hate Nemesis for having such an unfair fight. You should feel rage that she’s trapped in her small studio of an apartment, surrounded by compiled evidence again Umbrella, half-eaten food, notes, pills, signs of being entrapped in this small prison to have it invaded by this invader, this visible lumbering presence of the very company that drove her to use pills to cope and yet, you can’t look away.  
  
You’d watch every move between the two of them; how effortlessly she sailed through the air when he first burst into the room previous like a kinky Kool-Aid Man parody, his sea of leather softly creaking the sounds mixing with Jill’s clearly heavy breathing. She probably was knocked breathless from the initial trip to the back of the room. The desperate lunge for her gun and - ah! Your favorite part cause you got to glimpse at his boots – the effortless punting of her against the wall. She even then through her pain expressed anger, no, understandable rage at her privacy invaded like that as she aimed her gun at him. Then, almost to mock her still the Tyrant grabs her by the shoulder. The grip has the high potential to squish that toned at peak physical fitness patch of body from shoulder to gristle and bone.  
  
But he doesn't.  
  
And for a moment, he hovers over her as he slams her down hard to the floor showing Jill his incredible strength and height. Everything about him is immense and overwhelming. At this point, you’d be squirming in your computer chair. You had initially joked that he clearly can’t aim with his clearly telegraphed punches, missing someone who moves at a 5th of his speed slower, that he was doing a piss poor job at an assassination – until the realization that he is in this lone one on one moment toying with her.  
  
Toying with _you_.  
  
It’s almost fetishy, this scene. Is it a _scene_? It gives that kind of air now. It is like they are play fighting, him stomping down to distress the floor but ‘narrowly’ avoiding her. Punching at the wall after she knowingly ducks to signal more is wanted. Then again between the bug deep throating scene, the voring gammas, the furry bait, tentacles – this game _was_ a kink fest. But this scene, in particular, was what filled your mind.  
  
If you were brutally honest you would admit to yourself how absolutely hot it was, how it was probably the kinkiest, most fucked thing in this short game that clearly flew under the radar. You’d even pull up YouTube clips of it before bed. How fucked it was to get off to CGI characters, not humans ones at that beating the fuck out of a human. It was meant to show the stakes for our dear protagonist Jill, but all you can focus on is how perverse that scene could go if _you_ were in it.  
  
That you’d take her place in a hot second.  
  
But denial is a stronger thing as you refused to admit to such a thing. It’s a weird scene, that’s all.  
You brushed _those_ thoughts away by asking questions of it:  
  
How did Brad see him so fast if the cartridge is right by Jill’s apartment?  
  
Why is Nemesis wearing a gimp mask like he’s doing a home invasion – well technically he is - damnit, this isn’t helping.  
  
You for tonight exit the game, thinking _that’s enough for today_. It was late anyway, and you had work tomorrow at the ass crack of dawn. And so you went to bed, ignoring the wetness between your thighs.  
………………………………..x  
  
  
You wake up, grumpy and annoyed at the distinct lack of your alarm going off. Did you sleep through it? This is a worry as you can’t afford to be late again. It takes a longer amount of time to fully awake but when you do the sound of the slow groans of the game’s intro theme wakes you up fully. You don’t remember leaving the PC on much less letting the game sit aimlessly on. You weren't _that_ tired, were you?  
  
You rose, groggily walking to your gaming table. You move your usb controller – cause you were not going to suffer a keyboard and mouse for this game, ha! - scrolling through the ominous menu to move off the bonus outfit screen. Before you clicked to the main menu you noticed something odd. You were apparently last night switching Jill’s outfit out. The screen displayed Jill in her 1999 RE3 recreation outfit.  
  
But it did not display her.  
  
It displayed you.  
  
You in curiosity reloaded your last save. Jill stood around normally, camped out at the save room in the Donut Shop. You check your inventory. Empty, she’s not even holding a green herb. You check the safe box. Everything is in order and tucked away, even your unlockables. All and all, everything looks the same. You exit out to the title screen then go to see the costumes again. Unnervingly, you in Jill’s outfit glares back at you. You decide to just exit out of the game completely and right after prompt your PC to do a full shut down. You had to go to work anyway.  
  
As your rig quickly shuts down with the power of a new SSD drive you freeze. You can feel the hairs standing along the back of your neck. You turn around to the side of your room. Nothing but random pictures that you couldn’t discern. _You must be tired to not be able to see your own wall art_ , you mentally chastise yourself only to suddenly feel yourself in the air.  
  
  
Before you can register, you realize you are being bodily thrown against your wall. You land back first hard against your wall full of pictures, news clippings and pinned documents connected by thread and pins.  
  
No, this isn’t your wall. This is Jill’s wall. This…  
  
You look up and see all near 8 ft of leather and muscle glaring down at you. Are you dreaming? You must be. It’s just the intro sequence. You maybe fell asleep playing. Not a smart choice to do having to work early. He didn’t walk through your...err Jill’s wall but things were going similarly as you remembered. You’ll just find the thread of unreality and wake up. You tenuously look down and realize you are wearing the two shirt top and jeans outfit Jill wore. Not the re-imagined original RE3 outfit, mind. The inconsistency in outfit choice is a thread you should pull to wake up.  
  
Your back though, it aches all too real. Forcing yourself to focus on the wrong outfit doesn't trigger you to wake up. A part of you doesn’t mind. You decide to try and play it out. Weird dreams peter out sooner or later. You follow ‘script’ and reach forwards in front of you to reach for your gun. The punishing feel of a kick to the ribs has you groan out in pain, searing pain. It felt all too real, as real as Nemesis' steel-toed boots of inhuman size.  
  
And yet, that pleased familiar trill up your spine followed. Because of this, you failed to keep a hold of the gun. He had grabbed you with one hand by the shoulder, following the script you remember. Unlike Jill, you didn't have the handgun and could not shoot off the mask that bore down on you. You wonder while in both his grip and in the grips of honest bonafide fear how he could see in such a thing and if he could see said fear etched on your face. _If he relished in it_. For being in rising pain-induced fear it was comforting to know your mind still found disturbing things to get aroused by.  
  
You noticed your breathing grew heavier from the assault and the looming unavoidable presence of Nemesis who silently held you a few feet off the ground as if your weight was like an afterthought in his mind. He stood deathly silent examining you while in air. The feeling that you couldn’t force the dream to end, or to exit the game like in the many, many times you dicked around grew in the back of your head like a slow-burning panic. You couldn’t will anything to change, could you? Maybe all those lucid dreaming websites may be onto something! You squint your eyes closed and start thinking of anything else. You open your eyes. _Nope, he’s still clothed_. Nice that of all things your dream insisted on default outfits and no mods.  
  
On top of that disappointment, things didn’t line up with what you remembered yet this dream was still happening. Your body shook from exertion and pure adrenaline. Then with a low grunt, he slams you into the ground causing a flare of bright pain along your back. You remember to roll to the side as he stomps down, his speed strangely slow even for a regular not trained person as you much less for the trained ex STARS member who’d normally wear these clothes.  
  
You wondered thoughout what would happen if you didn’t move, but you move anyway, this tall too tall mutant hovering over you, raising his fist at you a great incentive to not be stupid. You duck as he punches the wall. After dodging that, you struggle to get up to run just as Jill did – only to feel a thick tentacle wrap around your waist. The appendage slithered around you and even it made you feel so, so small. You look cautiously behind yourself at the Tyrant as he whips you back in towards himself with terrifying speed. As you look up to assess your new location, the monster lets out a low, mocking laugh as he reaches to tear off his stapled on hood.  
  
At seeing the Tyrant’s face up close and unobscured by the haphazardly stapled on material, terror-filled you as his small, too small for his face sole functioning eye glares down at you. You can only struggle as you can _feel_ that tentacle bruising your waist keeping you tight and near. You grunt, beginning to open your mouth before snapping your lips closed: the monster had somehow deepened the torn flesh around his maw emphasizing the deep grimace he spouted while lowering his face to yours an inch apart. The monster softly clicked his teeth at you, so impossibly dangerously close that you could smell leather and decay, before lowly, coolly growling 'STARS'. That word makes your body shiver and causing your perverse id to let you know that you were not only slick but practically clenching in a disgusting desire that was as real as the singing bruising you felt along your body.  
  
And with that, you felt that tentacle leave you before a leather clad knee found you on the floor and holding your already sore side in a new river of pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh lied, lmshady. I had another idea concerning remake. I wasn't gonna let that 'one' scene go without someone perverting it more, tehehe
> 
> Also, a two chap thing cause I like being awful :)


	2. The Plot Gets (de)Rail(canon)ed

Your eyes had widened like saucers at the gripping pain Nemesis’ not at all friendly knee left you in. They’d be comically doe-like if this were a funny situation. But it wasn’t, as you felt that tentacle from previous move with a deceptively fast speed back around you. It was if you were putting up a fight and he was trying to subdue you – but you weren’t. You had long lost that gun, who might as well be a water pistol in how unused to it you were. All you knew that you were entrapped with a large and clearly unfriendly monster, and unlike the protagonist of said monster’s game, you had absolutely no combat training. That one beginner class of karate your parents forced you to take before your begged to go do baseball instead when you were a kid didn’t count.  
  
That incidentally was a small lament that slipped your mind as that tentacle slammed you against the desk piled high with notes. Your body bounces off of the wood furniture, you collapsing against the floor. _Was he going to kill you here?_ It was pretty much implied that was his eventual intention in-game but Jill had decided against that and ran.  
  
 _Does Nemesis even realize that you are not Jill?_  
  
Your breathing dropped heavier from exertion, but it was hard to hear it over the low growl of the Tyrant in the same room as you. As you fell to the floor, your legs did an instinctive squeeze together (along with you flailing your arms out to catch yourself) to lessen the pain from falling. This caused you to create friction between them. You bit back the low moan that threatened to slip out, the slickness already there and dripping from your sex. You wonder if the monster can even smell it.  
  
Contrary to your private reaction, your fear response triggered hard as you grip the nearby window ledge. You in your panic had the grand plan to try to escape through the window. Not surprisingly, Nemesis grabs you by the neck. Surprisingly, he shoves you against the glass. It slightly cracks from the pressure of your body and the strength in him forcing you against it. You were certain now some sort of protag immunity was keeping you alive or at least from lethal injury. That slam should have cracked your head open. Two other more disturbing thoughts came to mind: that the bastard was definitely holding back toying with you, and that cutting through the reasonable fear you held towards him was the distinct need to beg for more.  
  
Nemesis moves his hand from your neck to your face, pressing it against the crack of the glass as if he planned to shove your head through it. A low snarl came from the monster’s torn throat; _a warning_.  
  
He returns his hand to your neck, forcing your face off the glass into a backbend before shoving you against the patch of brick wall between the windows. You can only brace for impact as your arms land on them before your breasts. As you find your body against the new surface, the large surface of his large body presses you flat against the bricks. The Tyrant leans his face against your neck, hot breaths tickling your skin. You can feel that crooked and malformed nose against the side of your face and you wanted more than anything to get it off of you. But that was the rational part of you talking. The inner pain slut you were starting to acknowledge was not about to ruin this. It wasn’t as if you could will him off anyway.  
  
Nemesis lets that oddly warm nose trail up your skin before his wet tongue traces against your neck, his teeth following up and dangerously close to your throat. You could feel your pulse beating hard through your skin against his permanently exposed teeth. This close and very much troubling closeness has you instinctively try to scream out now – it was different than when he found his foot belonging in your side. He could right now rip out your throat and _end you_.  
  
That reaction was effectively canceled, as the Tyrant slithers a tentacle against your throat, pressing down against your larynx, almost daring you to scream now. You could only gasp at the sudden squeeze; Nemesis abuses this (when has he not abused you this whole time?) by sliding two small tendrils against the sides of your mouth before pressing them in. Fear and the shock of him doing such a thing prevents you from trying to pull them out, you can even feel them sliding against your gums.  
  
You start to squirm. He mercifully eases up the tendril pressing on your throat allowing you to weakly whine. As you begin to test how loud he’ll let you do so, the monster has the two tendrils in your mouth pull your lips open. He then dips his long, much larger fleshy tongue into your mouth. Nemesis takes advantage of your freezing reaction to tease along your gums where his tendrils were. The male would drift along inside your mouth, dipping lower to sweep against your tongue. Your much smaller oral muscle had no chance against his so you let him lead in the rough but surprisingly gentle dance between the two, drool trailing between the two of you. Somewhere in that, you register a large hand prop beside one of yours on the wall while felt the other one roughly slide against your breasts, you sensitive to each time a finger hovered and stroked each firm nipple through Jill’s top.  
  
By the time you realized your lips were wet with his slow methodical tasting of them, you were panting into his maw, bucking behind and into his solid trunk of a body. The Tyrant pulls away from your mouth, purring lowly pleased at the way more lewd growl you made when he stopped. You flush along your cheeks in both sullen anger at letting him get to you and at your body simply having no shame in enjoying what was occurring. What shouldn’t be in all logic happening yet here you are.  
  
Nemesis doing what you accept was intentional disorientation of your arousal response dips along your neck with that same unsightly and filthy in both meanings tongue. He leaves a slick trail along your skin before sweeping at your shoulder then biting down hard, the Tyrant rolling against you and demonstrating exactly what he wanted you for with the sizable, no dangerously lethal sized bulge you felt through his leathers. This, of course, makes you wholesale scream out both in a new discovery that getting bitten by a Tyrant _hurts_ and yet you squirm, feeling a trail of thick fluid down your leg that you are sure is not your piss.  
  
You in the haze that this pain-pleasure cycle that was becoming your life now note that a tentacle was sliding up your pant legs. Despite being passive to this point, something about him trailing up spurns you to act, your small and trembling hands leaving the ‘safety’ of the brick wall. You grip the errant tendril with one hand, it slick and wrapping around your hand like a disturbing slap bracelet. Your other weakly hovers over your crotch, trying to futilely keep that area away from him. Nemesis sharply snarls at this and wrenches you back harder his large hand gripping your neck and pulling you into an even sharper backbend than before. The tendrils though had left your mouth.  
  
Instead, more tentacles slither up your pants forcing your legs open. One large tendril slid between your legs, each segment on it pulling against you. You can feel that the jean was getting damp with your wetness. The same large hand that was at your breasts roughly pushes past the flimsy belt of your pants. It was definitely his tentacle hand, that hand cupping your sopping wet cunt causing you to arch in response against the heel of his gloved hand. That hand removed itself from your pants; the male holds it up to your face and you look with horror as it was glistening with your juices, the palm of it literally dripping with your arousal. Nemesis them lifts his palm to his own face licking it, carefully lapping you off of his palm. The sight made your cunt pulse wishing that tongue didn’t waste that time licking an old glove. With delicateness, the male used teeth (some still faintly covered in hints of your blood) to pull the glove off revealing a large and very rough looking hand.  
  
The thumb of that hand brushed against your lips; you strangely relax at the rough masculine feel of them. This gave him the opening to slip a finger in your mouth. You wondered, _does he have an oral fixation? He sure likes playing with my_ \- You gag mid-thought as he moves the glove he tucked into the cup of his hand into your mouth the taste of leather, him and you filling your mouth.  
  
He rubs against your ear with that broken off-center nose. The sensation of that necrotic waste of flesh makes you shudder in pure excitement, and that being the cause makes you feel such shame. _That all it takes for you to cave is a fucking broken nose_. The shame just like the pain only circles back to how turned on you are and how it all just makes you wetter. You sharply gasp around the glove as a tendril snakes near your sopping wet opening.  
  
It sneaks into your pants to quickly dip between your legs. It traces around your nub adding an additional layer of stimulation along with the tendril pressing against your clothed crotch. You felt like you were going to pass out before the teasing tendril pulls away from your clit to slide between your sodden lips to tease your opening. You squirm expecting him to penetrate you where you expect – until you yelped out in worry. The large hand that leaned on the wall moved to pin you against him. The tendril that circled your hand moved to encase both of your hands. You could only whimper and weakly thrash as the tendril that concerned you slid slowly into your urethra the one hole you didn’t think anyone would find interest in.  
  
The urge to pee is immense. You can feel it wiggling and rubbing in just that way that only adds not detracts to the swimming feeling this bastard is making you feel. Nemesis’ ungloved hand slides back inside your pants, his middle finger dragging against your nub before pressing down and teasing your lower lips. Each pass with his finger jostled the one inside you reminding you of that odd feeling on being full and wanting to relieve yourself. You were so distracted he slides a tendril from his palm roughly and without warning into your cunt. A low, guttural growl filled the room and it was not from him.  
  
Nemesis lowly snorts almost mocking how easy it was to get you to change sounds on a whim despite them being muffled by the glove. You can feel another tendril from his palm, the hand itself returning to stroking your hard nub. That wet virus coated tendril slips against your ass crack before it too snuck in, the thankfully small tendril pressing inside you. It hurt, but not as much as you expected probably lessened do to your admittedly sloppy state. He’s moving all of his tendrils slowly, enough to keep you on the edge overstimulating you by slow inching paper cuts.  
  
In the meanwhile, you realized you had slowly slid lower to the ground, your legs feeling like jelly from all of the sensations overwhelming you despite him holding you up with his free hand. As you tried to steady yourself, you find yourself against the window sill again; your shoulder lands against a picture frame. You could only loosely focus on it and note that it was a picture of Jill looking happy about something. _A portrait_. You feel the sudden loss of his hand on your belly. That large hand covered that same picture before sharply slamming it face down. You felt tendrils remove themselves from you and well the ones binding your hands and you felt _empty_. The whine you made only reminded you more of how badly you wanted something in you again. The Tyrant pushed the picture away before forcing you up by the neck again with that hand at level with his hips. The Tyrant roughly with his free hand presses two fingers in your mouth, digging into your drooling maw to pull out his sodden glove.  
  
 _Was it his_ _nonverbal_ _way of saying ‘Jill isn’t here?’ If so...is he aware of who you are?  
_  
You lose that train of thought as Nemesis shoves his crotch against your face, rubbing the sizable bulge against your face. The sound of leather was drowned out by the suddenly hard rain that pelted against the windows. The room shifted into the washed-out grain of Jill’s dream sequence. _Odd_. He looks you over surveying everything including your small face, cheek flattened again the large expanse of leather that was his bottom overcoat. He pressed his other hand against your lips and with a strange sense of obligation, you lick along it tasting yourself all over him. Your mouth licks every crease, every slit where you can feel where a tendril had pushed through, to suckling against each giant finger.  
  
You can feel that terrifying bulge against your cheek as he did this, pulsing and twitching as he clearly was pleased by you licking him. Nemesis slides his hand past the stapled on layer of his outfit to push past the coat to get to his pants; he pulls through this gap his hardened, tentacle laden cock, stroking along the slick length. It was massive in comparison to any human cock you’ve ever seen and it terrified you as at the head a small tendril twitched and wiggled from within the slit, writhing against his tip like a fleshy Prince Albert ring.  
  
You start to move your head but he pulls you by your trapped neck, tapping that dripping length of meat against your lips. You softly shake your head unsure if you can take all of that or if you should. ‘No’ was not in the Tyrant’s vocabulary as he squeezes against your neck. This forces your small mouth open to allow him to with a hard shove force the fat tip in your mouth. Tears and muffled breathing around that girth is all you can do as you feel it twitch and pulse. You wanted to sob and cry and go _see, I didn’t enjoy any of this!_ But your traitorous cunt had become so aroused you had a visible wet spot in the crotch of the pants that the real Jill would probably be pissed off to see ruined like that.  
  
The monster pulled his cock back out before pushing back in in a brutal pass as if he was testing your throat. You could feel the tendril at his tip feeling around your throat. You drooled and gagged as he did this, again and again, grunting in enjoyment. Nemesis was fucking your throat, sometimes pressing his hand around your neck slightly, massaging your throat with his thumb. The only thing this did was cause you to be well aware of what was violently trying to go beyond what your body could take as you continued choking and gagging around him. _You got the feeling he liked that, the bastard_. His grunts grew lowered and deeper, his breaths faster as you can feel him pulsing in your throat and dots of asphyxiation dotted your vision. _He wouldn’t, would he? You’ll choke! Dying by choking on come, lovely._  
  
The Tyrant pulls on the tops you wore causing the blue top to unbutton and the white under-tank to stretch. As you started to dearly wonder if you could indeed drown from Tyrant come, he pulls out of your throat to shoot his load aiming between your breasts. This caused a small lake to form between your breasts, it seeping down your chest, pooling at your navel, and staining from the inside and outside Jill’s two tops. He even dips his tip between them rubbing against your breasts like he was massaging in his come like a perverse lotion, coating you in him. You can feel him shudder from release but almost like an insatiable demon was nowhere near soft nor done with you.  
  
Nemesis then forces you back down not onto his cock but at the top of his groin. All you could do was kiss around and suckle the necrotic skin, pulling at it with an admittedly hungry eagerness. It was as if he was annoyed he couldn’t properly deep throat you to the hilt but was getting your lips down there one way or another. He then withdrew pulling your lips away, only to shove your body roughly to the floor. You suddenly feel his boot against your sopping and clothed cunt, overstimulated and despite yourself wanting the very thing that terrified you a second ago.  
  
No, it was _because_ it scared you that you wanted it inside you.  
  
That boot lightly tapped against you, before slowly beginning a slow teasing rub, causing you to gasp and arch against it. The tread and just right pressure had you like a desperate whore rub against that ungodly sized boot feeling ripples of orgasm to bubble to the surface. But, Nemesis clearly wasn’t interested in you getting off. A bone-shattering ripple of pain stops your pleasure as he depresses down hard, grinding the tip of his boot against you before kicking you. You scream in wailing agony and admittedly frustrated rage. It seems that protag immunity had you covered here too, as you are sure that should have broken your pelvis. You just weren’t sure how far that insurance coverage went cause god damn did that hurt.  
  
When the white left your vision you found yourself face to face with a boot. You can see dots of the thick seed he dribbled on it in getting off earlier, but also a more pronounced film from you. Nemesis moved before leaning to the floor and with little effort yanked the thin belt that kept your, no Jill’s pants on. With a snap, the thing broke under his large hand. He then with just as much ease pulled the soiled and ruined pants down to your thighs. As he did this, the Tyrant’s cock bobbed against his leathers and despite yourself, you licked your lips towards it. This let the scent of your arousal tellingly hit the air and left you exposed to the monster over you. A tendril had slipped inside your cunt with ease and you shuddered in primal bliss, missing that feeling of being full. More tendrils wrapped around your ankles opening your legs as he refilled your ass, and even your 4th hole each pumping into you way faster than before forcing that delicious pressure to build low within you. He leaves your mouth alone. The Tyrant instead grips your head, his hand near covering it fully, and shoved your head down to his boots.  
  
You knew what he wanted you to do and at this point was beyond shame. You dip low, letting your tongue dart out to lick that fluid coated boot slowly, desperately, reverently as he filled you intimately while grunting in accent. It wasn’t missed that he was stroking himself while watching you, a stray drop of pre-come dripping down your face from above. Despite yourself, your body could not hold out any more and you scream as an orgasm came fast and cruel. You shake and quiver against the cool wood floor of Jill’s apartment. You lay there, whimpering as each tendril leaves your body but was given a moment to catch your breath.  
  
That moment was short as this whole dream scenario ran on Nemesis’ time, not yours. And by the way he eyed you, with cock in hand, the time had come to get the railing of a lifetime. You had to find a little humor in nonhumorous things, after all, and that cock might as well be a canon. Your acceptance of it belonging in your mouth earlier faded again to fear as the very real fear of what he wanted crossed your eyes. _He will tear you in two! He barely got even a few inches into your mouth before almost choking you out!_  
  
You try to move your sweaty, tired body from the floor - ignoring the large wet spot you left on Jill’s floor rug and the pants that weren’t helping sagging down your legs - but he yanks you with one large meaty hand by your calf. He slid that hand up your trapped calf to your trembling thigh, digging his nails into that thigh in punishment the poor near ruined denim pants tearing under his nails. You could see dots of blood seeping through the jeans. You were certain what with all the wet spots, blood and come on all of these clothes, Jill wouldn’t want them back anyway. Considering what they go through in the game, these clothes were destined to get burned either way.  
  
The monster leaned over your trapped body on the floor and licked near your nose trailing the wet path your fresh tears of pain made on your face. If you didn’t know better, that was his offhanded way of affection? This was a question among many you didn’t get an answer to much less time to mull over it as the male rose up and with no effort yanks you by the throat to the wide ledge by the window where the books sat and bent you over. The hard rain almost covered up the loud sound of him slapping your cunt painfully hard with his battering ram of a cock tapping it then letting the flesh slide against your slick lips. You can feel his meat sticking to you from your ample wetness.  
  
With what was definitely his MO by now, Nemesis shoves himself in, bottoming out halfway in. Through the grunt of sudden pain your body felt being entered this way (while thankful that his 'foreplay' prepped you somewhat), you almost feel a sort of perverse pride in being deep enough to take him in halfway. The low, booming growl told you that at the very least the monster felt pleasure from you. He even presses against you with his free hand to make you even tighter for himself despite feeling like he was splitting you wide well beyond capacity. And yet the initial intense ache slipped into something more powerful. The pressure of it, the exceeding fullness had you squirming for more of it, wiggling against it to pull more inside and that was before the thrusts began.  
  
Fuck, the thursts were _heavenly cruel_. He started slow and brutal, his tip slamming against you digging deep and was very likely bruising your cervix. He snarled rough and animal-like as his pace sped up. You can feel his heartbeat pulsing and beating hard with each effort as if he was putting his all this time into mounting you. Nemesis leaned you both over onto the window sill bucking ruthlessly inside you, sometimes adjusting you at a higher angle forcing your ass up higher to slam deeper inside. You could feel tentacles tracing you from the inside, feeling you in a way a human could never do. Mid thrust, he adjusts you and moves you bodily against the window, Jill’s soiled top sliding upwards revealing your bruised breasts as you tried to stay upright. He was thrusting up into you from behind, and it wouldn’t surprise you if he could hoist you up with his cock alone. That didn’t matter now, all that mattered was the dots and stars filling your vision as he thrust deep into your heat. And almost in this mad need to match him somehow, you would meet him not with the goal taking him all in, but squeezing tight your core causing the male to moan in surprise rewarding you with a hard thrust hitting you just _right_ , or a longing lick along your shoulder wiping away the bits of dried blood found there.  
  
In this fuck induced blur, you wonder if the citizens were cozily asleep during this hard pelting rain, or were some of them out there awake watching the two of you in morbid curiosity? Would they look at this with disgust or get off on this too? Such aimless filthy thoughts were quickly swept away as you felt him panting again along with the swell of that cock. You moaned like a monster’s whore and squeezed wanting him to not pull out this time. _Unlike in game this time he_ _took the hint_ and did not pull out, as his warm come filled you causing a deep shiver that turned into a wave of intense sensation as your eyes rolled closed and your growls of release mixed with his.  
  
You stop to catch your breath at the second intense come of this little event. _At least he was equitable in that_. Nemesis if anything seemed less abrasive as he leans over watching you with intensity pant, your face flush with exertion. He stoops a bit down to lick your face. For the first time since this dream began you almost felt safe – before you saw him raise his hand. That moment had you lock eyes to eye with him as his hand tentacle began to slide out. The tendril snakes out just like in-game as it wiggles slick with virus before it slams into your face-  
  
You startle awake. Your body is covered in a sheen of sweat your hair sticking to your face. The sheets were damp as well as your once pristine panties. _Well then_. Your PC was still on and your alarm had an hour to go before setting off. There was no point in returning back to bed now. The sun wasn’t even close to being out yet and from what you can hear it was dry outside. _What a weird and amusing dream_. You decided to walk to your desk partly annoyed you wasted power in keeping it on. But after that vivid dream, you kind of were in the mood to play a bit with Nemmy again. As you sat curled up in your chair with your controller in hand, you noticed a small pile of items near your mouse. As you look at it, you freeze, unsure if it was a really elaborate joke or what...  
  
 _That ‘pile’ was of a few scraps of leather held together in a loose jumble with caution tape..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woulda had this out sooner but well I write a filthy as fuck Nems and he wasn't pleased till it was suitably dirty and kinky. I also maybe was inspired by an old at fic I wrote ages ago on FF? Anywho enjoy ya animals.


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